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“So, remind me why I’m here again?” Sua grumbles.
“Because you’re the best cousin in the world, obviously,” Ivan singsongs, far too giddy at the prospect of checking off this particular item on his bucket list. It had taken the better part of the last month and a rather hefty bribe to convince her to do this for him, but it was going to be so worth the cost. Ivan had been dying to try this out for ages after he’d seen it pop up while idly scrolling Instagram reels, and no, Sua, he doesn’t care about how stupid and childish it is. Life was too short to care about things like shame or embarrassment. If anything, Ivan’s living his best life out here indulging his inner child, especially now that he’s mostly thrown off the yoke of his family.
What was “this,” one might ask? Well… Ivan was planning on popping out of one of the closets in IKEA whilst shouting “For Narnia!” and he needed someone to record it for him.
Hence, Sua. She might outwardly show nothing but annoyance at being here, but Ivan knows that deep down, she does care about him. Out of all the cousins in their sprawling extended family tree, they were probably the closest, born from a tacit, mutual understanding of their all-too-similar inadequacies.
“Alright, you can stop with the flattery. It’s giving me hives. Let’s just get this over with,” Sua mutters under her breath. “Which one are you doing this from?” She gestures at the wall of closets on display.
“Hmm.” Ivan pretends to consider them, acting like he hadn’t already come by himself earlier in the week to scope out his options. Sua doesn’t need to hear about everything that he’d done in preparation… although he gets the sense that she already knows. Oh well.
“That one,” Ivan declares, pointing to one of the larger sets with floor-to-ceiling cabinets tall enough to fit a human. He’d still have to squish into it a bit because he’s 186 cm tall— a fact he reminds Sua of, often— but it would do.
Sua watches as Ivan opens the closet door, glancing around furtively like he’s about to commit a crime or something. She knows that he knows perfectly well it only makes him look more suspicious— he’s just doing it to be dramatic. Ivan yelps as she grabs his arm and starts shoving him into the narrow space. “Come on, quit it with the overdramatics. Don’t you already live in here anyways?” she mutters.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
Sua doesn’t answer his (perfectly valid!) question. “Just get in already. Why are gay people like this?”
“You’re also a gay person, though.”
“Ivan, get in the closet or else I’ll shove you in it and leave you there.”
“Isn’t that just the same—”
Sua glares at him. Ivan wisely shuts up. Together, they manage to wrangle Ivan’s absurdly tall frame into the closet and shut the door.
“Can you still open the door from the inside? Actually, can you even still breathe? I hope you suffocate in there.”
“That’s not a very nice thing to say to your dear cousin.” The door cracks open a bit and Ivan’s grinning face pokes out from behind it, confirming that he can, in fact, open the door, and that he (regrettably) has not passed out from the lack of ventilation. Sua rolls her eyes as she marches up to him to push him back into the closet and close the door again. “Die.”
“I love you too, Sua-noona!”
Sua shudders. “Don’t call me that. Anyways, let me know when to start recording. I’ll count down from three.”
Ivan repeats the honorific just to be contrary. “Thank you, noona~ You’re the best!”
Ugh. The glee is audible in his voice. “Three, two, one, recording—”
So engrossed in setting up Ivan’s (stupid) video, Sua didn’t notice the two people who had just entered the same aisle she was in. Ivan doesn’t notice either, because, well, he’s shut in the closet. But more importantly, the newcomers were walking in her direction from the opposite side of the door hinges, unaware of what was about to transpire. It was a disaster waiting to happen.
What happens is this: Ivan bursts out of the closet with all the subtlety of a sledgehammer, shouting “For Narnia!” at the top of his lungs. The door swings open violently and slams right into the face of one of the strangers with a loud crack!, immediately followed by a pained screech of, “OW! What the fuck?!”
Sua whips around to see a grey-haired young man clutching his nose, his face splotchy and scrunched up with pain. Beside him is an older woman staring wide eyed at the scene. Judging by the hair and features, she was probably his mother.
Ivan’s voice trails off, his dramatic battle cry rapidly losing steam. “And… for Aslan?”
There is a beat in which all four of them stare at each other in stunned silence, and then Sua bursts into roaring laughter. Ivan doesn’t think he’s ever heard his cousin laugh so hard before.
The sound of her wheezing broke the spell of silence, and Ivan’s brain comes back online just in time to see the grey-haired young man storm up to him and jab a finger in his face. “What the fuck was that for, asshole?! Can’t you tell there’s other people here?!”
He’s been called attractive all his life, but Ivan has never understood being intimidated by hot people more in his life than this exact moment, because holy shit. He’s gorgeous: ashen hair, sharp eyes that seem to shift from green to blue in the light, and a button nose that seems incongruous with the rest of his face, angular and lean.
Ivan’s higher faculties have shut down and his brain is running on autopilot. He just babbles out a nonsense string of “Oh my god I am so sorry, are you okay— is your nose bleeding, do you need a tissue or something—”
Sua regains enough breath to wheeze out, “I am so sorry about my idiot cousin,” she inhales, “he was dropped a few times too many as an infant,” before devolving into giggles again.
“Wha— hey! Out of left pocket?” Ivan snaps back reflexively. Left pocket? Really??? His brain supplies helpfully.
The young man looks at her doubled over with laughter and mutters, “At least someone finds this funny,” before getting smacked upside the head by the woman next to him. “Till! Be polite!”
His name is Till. Clearly Ivan needs a lobotomy, because he blurts out the first thought that forms in his head in response to learning the guy’s name. “Till? A pretty name for a handsome guy.” Are his speech and thought bubbles getting mixed up? What is wrong with him?
The speed at which Till’s face turns purple is astonishing. Must be some kind of new world record. Ivan’s never seen someone’s face go through so many emotions in such quick succession before. He finds himself intrigued, suddenly, by what other reactions he could provoke out of the other man.
“Trying to flirt with me isn’t going to let you off the hook,” Till snaps. “Seriously, though, what the fuck was that? Why were you lurking in a closet like a serial killer to begin with, anyways?”
Sua’s finally stopped laughing so hard she can’t breathe, pausing to inhale and collect herself. “I’m so sorry about him, he wanted to record a video referencing the portal in the Narnia series, so that’s why he was in the closet. He’s Ivan, and I’m Sua, his cousin.”
Till just grunts in acknowledgment, annoyance still written all over his face. The woman next to him smiles and bows her head. “I’m Io, his mother,” she gestures at Till. “And it's alright, it was just an unfortunate coincidence. I do apologize for his language.”
“Eomma, please,” Till scoffs. “I think that is a perfectly valid reaction to suddenly getting hit in the face with a closet door.”
Sua looks at Ivan, but it seems like he won’t be coming back online anytime soon. Ugh, fine, she’ll answer in his stead. He so owes her after this. “Still, it’s our fault for not seeing you two earlier, and I’m really sorry about him accidentally hitting you.”
Till waves her off. “It’s alright, just don’t do it again—”
Ivan, meanwhile, has managed to reboot his brain again except with a brand new virus installed called “in the presence of a hot guy” that is overtaking all of his higher brain functions. Sua is never going to let him live this down, but Ivan has to snatch the opportunity while it’s still here. He needs to see Till again somehow. “Wait— at least let me buy you a coffee or something.”
Till blinks in surprise. “Uh, no, it’s okay, that won’t be necessary.”
Wow, you’ve got it bad, a voice that sounds suspiciously like Sua’s says in his head. The other half of his brain just replies I don’t care how pathetic I seem as long as I get his number. Ivan’s rambling now, “Please I insist, it's my treat, let me make it up to you—” He ignores the way Sua’s staring at him like he’s grown a second head.
To be fair, Sua’s never seen him so out of his element before; usually he—annoyingly—can charm his way out of any social blunder he makes, but right now he’s floundering like a fish out of water. If anything, she almost wonders if he also got hit in the head.
Till is waving his hands in front of him frantically as Ivan tries to give him his contact information. “No, seriously, it’s fine—”
Till’s mother watches them argue and shifts a bit closer to Sua. “Pardon my presumptuousness, but could you please send me the video later? I have a feeling that it might come in handy further down the line,” she whispers, an air of satisfaction about her. “Here’s my phone number.”
Sua blinks in surprise, but acquiesces to her request. “Oh, sure. I’ll send you the video when I get home.”
“Thank you so much,” Io says, and then moves back to Till’s side and nudges him in the side a little. Till immediately stops protesting, cutting himself off with a resigned sigh. “Okay, fine, I guess, here’s my number. Text me your schedule or something.”
They exchange phones, and right as Till hands Ivan his phone back, it starts ringing. Embarrassingly, Ivan's so caught off guard that he nearly drops it. One look at who’s calling immediately knocks him back to his senses though. “Ugh, Hia-noona is calling me. She must be wondering where you are,” he says to Sua.
Sua grimaces. “She probably won’t be mad about having to cover for me, but it might draw Mother’s attention.” She turns to Io and Till, smiling apologetically. “We have to go now, I’m so sorry. And it was nice meeting you, although I wish it were under better circumstances.” With that, she grabs Ivan by the elbow and starts towing him towards the exit. Ivan glances back at Till and makes an exaggerated phone calling motion with his hand before pointing at Till, mouthing “I’ll call you!” at him.
Till watches them go bemusedly. “Okay… whatever that was all about…”
Io stifles a laugh behind her hand. “He seemed nice.”
“He’s weird.” Till says flatly.
“Well, it seems like you’ve got a date then,” Io muses.
Till sputters. “Eomma! That— it’s— that’s not what this is! Why would you think that?!”
“What? He’s handsome, no? And you didn’t turn him down outright either…”
Io’s never seen her son so flustered before, not even at the height of his (fleeting) crush on Mizi. Oh? This should turn out to be interesting. Till stammers, “I didn’t— I’m not talking about this anymore! Goodbye!” and storms off, flushed to the tips of his ears.
His phone pings right then with a new text message. ‘I know a great place for coffee downtown, lmk if you’re free next week! - xo Ivan’
The endearment sends another wave of heat up his neck. The absolute nerve of this man! Forget manners, Till is going to kill him when he sees Ivan again!!!